Katy's Blog


Katy B.

Katy B.
Seattle, Washington, US
June 06
I am a working jazz vocalist, a writer and the mother of three boys. Basically, I sing, I write and, for better or worse, I parent. I love making noise about the Seattle jazz scene and also writing about other vocalists. I thought I was pretty good at the parenting gig until my son became a teenager. I'm presently getting my ass-kicked. Still, my kids rock, even when they nail me to the emotional wall and remind me, again and again, the meaning of humility. Beyond all this, I’m just a basic goober trying to make her way in the world. I am learning to fly solo after a 22-year marriage. It's pretty weird, but I'll figure it out. The Buddhist philosophy seems to work for me. I’m rabidly pro-choice. I love my president. I don’t eat meat. I love running but get injured a lot. I have the best sister on the planet. Pema Chodron said it best: “One can appreciate and celebrate each moment-there’s nothing more sacred. There’s nothing more vast or absolute. In fact, there’s nothing more.” Thank you for letting me make my paw print on Open Salon with you.


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AUGUST 14, 2010 1:36AM

Open Call: What's Your Guilty Pleasure?

Rate: 7 Flag

 Someday they will find me. I’ll be facedown in my apartment, or possibly on a sidewalk somewhere in the neighborhood. There will be pint containers littered around my body. My pants, if I’m even wearing any, will be unbuttoned or even busted out at the seams. My cold, stiff fingers will be irretrievably clutched around a large spoon. My crazy, frozen eyeballs will  be wide-open, revealing my final manic moments. The authroities will possibly send a forensic team to search for clues. They might draw an outline of my body with chalk and pluck hairs out of my nose for evidence. Yet, the simple autopsy will reveal the cause of my demise: salted caramel ice cream.

 I will have died happy.

 I have only recently, probably within the past six months or so, been hip to salted caramel ice cream. Over the past couple of years, a handful of indie ice cream joints have popped up around the city. This is no colors-not-found-in-nature, nasty Baskin & Robbins fare. Hell no. These mighty little shops are all about creativity, superior ingredients and phenomenal flavors. The ice cream they peddle is high culinary art. It was in one of these shops that my palate and waistline would change forever.

 I don’t know what it is about salted caramel ice cream but I was addicted immediately. Perhaps it was the rockin’ combination of salty and sweet. It might have been the simple cool creaminess or the soft buttery undertones. My son Enzo thinks there’s something about the fact that it melts more quickly than other flavors. Perhaps I contemplate too much the law of impermanence as reflected in a bowl of ice cream. It is no wonder that I am a Buddha belly. The bottom line is this: I’m hooked.

 I am helpless and aquiver in the face of salted caramel ice cream. If I don’t bring it home, then I have a fighting chance, an opportunity to resist its come-hither seduction and retain my dignity. But once it is brought into my home- even a single pint across the threshold-then I am its bitch. I will eat salted caramel ice cream every night. I will sneak bites throughout the day, sometimes running water in the kitchen so my kid won’t hear what I’m up to. I’m like a mad-eye inebriate hiding booze. However, for obvious reasons, I can’t stash a pint of salted caramel ice cream in the closet. (I also can’t refill the container with water to make it look like I haven’t had any.) If there is salted caramel in the freezer, it whistles and catcalls at me all day, like a construction worker yelling at a woman walking down the street, “Hey baby, want some of this? You know you do.”

 As I’ve written in a recent post, I have a class reunion coming up in September and have been trying to drop a few pounds before I go. I had done pretty well this summer, that is, up until a few weeks ago. A guy a few doors down was doing some kind of project that involved the steady rat-a-tat-tat of a jackhammer. It went on for three days, making it impossible to think, write or even concentrate on the simplest of things. I used this as a cheap excuse to go out and buy a pint of salted caramel ice cream; it has been several pints and a downward spiral ever since. I’m like a thrashing trout with a hook in her mouth. Just this week, I’ve had salted caramel ice cream three  gluttonous nights in a row. I’m disgusted with myself. I’m also in heaven. Guilty pleasures are like that; they’re typically full of calories and ambiguity.

 In the grand scheme of things, my jones for salted caramel ice cream is kindergarten stuff.  I don’t smoke, drink or do drugs. I can easily walk away from other flavors of ice cream such as the Mexican chocolate or Ube (purple yam) that they sell at Full Tilt, our favorite indie  ice cream joint. (This place also has old-school video games like Pac-Man and Asteroids that you can play for a quarter.) I can take a pass on a lot of things that other people get tangled up in: Cheetos, sniffing glue, baked potatoes, Hookah pipes, whatever. But salted caramel ice cream has some kind of a nutty, voodoo spell over me.

  I am interested in hearing about your guilty pleasures. Is there anything (plant, animal, mineral, etc.) that you find impossible to resist? And how does it make you feel? Deliriously happy? Disgusted? A little of both?  I’m pretty new to Open Salon and this is my first open-ended shout. If you have thoughts on this, I hope you’ll hit me or better yet, bang out a post.


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To the salty caramel painted warrior.

My idea of heaven is not at all sweet, but quite the opposite. It's a "Lime Ice" Find a glass, as large as you can obtain (Sonic's Route 44 drinks is a good place to start). Empty the contents, rinse the glass and refill with fresh crushed ice about 1/3 full. Squeeze the juice out of two fresh limes and place a layer of fresh ground sea salt using a sea salt grinder. Another third of ice, juice of two more limes and another layer of sea salt. The last third of ice, another round of lime juice from two limes and the final layer of ground sea salt.

Let sit for 15 to 20 minutes (if you can) then slowly sip. On very hot summer days, this is the elixir of life, cooling you quicker than a bucket of ice water dumped onto your head. And oh the salty tang of the lime juice just makes you want more and more, until you're literally frosted over and experiencing brain freezes.

Have your best kisser kiss off the lime and salt and see what happens. Feel the fireworks and the incredible sensation casued by the lime on your tongue.

There is NO icecream, NO soda drnk, No alcoholic beverage that is as intoxicating as that salty lime kiss on a hot sultry day.

See ya later. I'm off to make my "Lime Ice" and to tempt my wife.
Gosh, I can't begin to match salty caramel ice cream and lime ice.

Maybe if Antonio Banderas developed a strong obsession with over-aged, overweight, Okie chicks I could report something.

I think I need to crack open that new box of Walker's Shortbread to get me over my sense of inadequacy.
Ooooh! Walker's shortbread. My mouth is watering as I write. You must have a Costco neaby.

Okie? Where in Okieville are you from? I grew up in Shawnee.
Funny. The lime ice was a concoction of the Sonic during the 60s and 70s in Shawnee to beat the Okalhoma summer heat.
I was born and raised in Ponca City, OK.
Spoke to my mom yesterday. She said it had gotten up to 106 this week. I do not for a second miss the Oklahoma summers!
Oh Jesus Christ. 106 with humidity that suffocates even on a warm day. Gives me a headache just thinking about it.
Katy, I've wanted to try Molly's salted caramel ever since I read about it in Sunset magazine. Now I'm not sure I want to risk it. Not like we get to Seattle that often, but I'm still laughing at your excellent description of your dead frozen-eyeballed self, and suspect that could easily be me.

And wow, does Boomer Bob's lime ice sound good.

My guiltiest pleasure is Diet Pepsi. I'm not supposed to have it due to the bladder thing I have (not to mention it's basically nothing but vile chemicals). But when it's hot and I'm thirsty and tired, I stop caring if having one makes me pee sixteen times in the next three hours. Nothing is better in a cup nearly filled all the way with ice (this is how I "save" myself, by justifying that I can't get that much pop in the cup anyway). Maybe it's the caffeine and all those chemicals all hitting my stomach at once, I don't know--but I swear by the brief but sweet euphoria that descends after drinking one.

I'm also a fierce and uncloseted ice-and-straw-chewer, so a fountain pop is basically heroin in a cup for me.
I just discovered dark chocolate almond salted ice cream at our local ice cream shop. It is truly amazing. This is why i wear waistless pants. Are yoga pants still cool?
@ Fettie. Oh yeah, Diet Pepsi is on my list too. I as drinking it way too much & recently gave it up because it was messing with my stomach.

@aim. I hope yoga pants are still cool. I pretty much live in yoga pants and mens button down shirts. (stretch pants without a choice....)
Katy, my teeth hurt just thinking about that salty caramel delight. It sounds amazing.
I have a very pedestrian pleasure. A big bag of Cheetos (not the crunchy ones, never the crunchy ones) and an ice cold Coke. (Not Pepsi, never Pepsi.)
Crunch, lick fingers,gulp, repeat. _r
@Joan. Do you get that orange dust all over your fingers? (I guess that's what the licking is about?)
That orange dust gets on my fingers and the keyboard but I just can't give it up.
swiss cheese with may on soft, squishy white bread! Ever since I was little. But if I had access to hip ice cream - Dairy Queen is as fancy as we get here in rural VA - I TOO would become a salted caramel ice cream addict. Damn YOU for planting the seed of a craving that can never be satisfied!
Hi I enjoyed your article and started to write a comment as I didn't think I could say enough to make a full post but it got longer and longer so now perhaps I will! J